To Love Somebody
by ChicksDigTheFuzzyDude
Summary: A series of Pietro-flavored oneshots, starting with Evietro. Warning: Slash.


I wanted to do these just for the heck of it. I will find a way to pair anyone with Pietro, be it in a romantic way or just a friendship way. I obviously don't own the X-Men, or any of these characters except Claire (you'll see.) Now, on with the show!

* * *

To Play the Field

It was always there that they met. It was unspoken, but both of them knew very clearly that nobody must ever know. It was risky, and if people found out, it would damage both their reputations and their relationships with their teams. It would wreck their image as rivals. That being the case, neither one ever really expected the other one to show up.

So why did it hurt so much when Evan didn't?

Pietro stood with his back to the basketball hoop, alone on the court of the local middle school. He had his eyes closed, and he was _willing, _purely _willing _Evan to show up. But he was alone. He ran a hand through his hair and, unbidden, a tear shot its way down his cheek. He was about to wipe it away when he felt the hand on his face, soft skin the color of molten chocolate. He smiled and another tear shot out, but this was relief causing it. He turned to the other boy and smirked casually.

"What-took-you-so-long-Daniels-I-was-worried!" he chided, and the other boy just smiled and took his hand off Pietro's face. "I had to sneak out. Auntie O's getting suspicious, and Scott's breathing down my neck about who knows what." Pietro rolled his eyes. "Yeah-Lance-is-starting-to-ask-questions-and-I-think-Wanda-knows-already." Blond eyebrows shot up. "You think she'll tell anyone?" Pietro shook his head rapidly. "We-keep-each-other's-secrets. Twin thing." Evan looked at him doubtfully but shrugged, walking over to a cart full of basketballs and scooping one out. He passed it to the silver-haired boy and darted over across the court, facing Pietro with a devilish grin on his face.

After a game of one-on-one, they sat down on one of the cold metal bleachers and Evan produced a picnic basket from underneath. They shared juice boxes and jelly sandwiches, and memories rose unbidden of Pietro's arrival in New York and the day he met Evan. Best friends sharing everything, sleepovers where they had huddled under a blanket with a comic and flashlights, giggling until Evan's mother or Mrs. Maximoff had come to confiscate their light. Pietro looked over at Evan and noticed the tiny smudge of grape jelly on his mouth, stretching to lick it away. Evan pulled him closer and they kissed, the tastes of strawberry and grape mingling, white bread and wheat, light and dark clashing. An albino and an African. Sweet and sour, strawberry toothpaste, was that what Pietro tasted past his citrus gum? But he was running out of air... aww...

They broke apart, breathing heavily and smiling at each other. Rivals by day, lovers by night, and nobody was any wiser. Evan suddenly checked his watch and his face fell, and Pietro knew what would happen now.

"I've gotta go..." began Evan, but Pietro silenced him with a hand to his lips. He claimed them again in a swift parting kiss, and then he was off. Gone like the wind, as fleeting as a single breath, but undoubtedly his. Pietro belonged to Evan, and although nobody could ever know, they knew. And that, as odd as it seemed, was enough.

* * *

The youngest Acolyte approached on silent, stealthy feet, making no sound. He had come to this place every night, hoping always to see the other waiting for him. And each night he was disappointed. He sat down softly, his eyes heavy from lack of sleep. He would always be waiting there, but he knew somehow that no one would ever come. He felt it in his very bones, anger at the other for deserting him mingling with confusion, regret, and grief. He let his head drop and was not surprised when he felt a tear hit the back of his hand. He felt somehow older, as though the world was bearing down on him. As though he were becoming his father. And from deep in the shadows, someone watched.

He played absently with the tip of a spike, watching the other one cry. The Morlock slipped out as silently as the other had slipped in, leaving behind no trace, as he had every night since his 'disappearance' into the sewers. He leaned against the wall of the middle school and breathed heavily. "I'm sorry, Pietro." he whispered, andthen he climbed back into the sewers, knowing he would not return to the court.


End file.
